Photo: Paul Broussard at flickr.com/photos/nolaphotos

Photo: Paul Broussard at flickr.com/photos/nolaphotos

Photo: Paul Broussard at flickr.com/photos/nolaphotos

Photo: Paul Broussard at flickr.com/photos/nolaphotos

Location Be Damned, I Need Some Rest

Feature from "The Location Issue" Continues

SAINT LOUIS No. 1

$$$

$$

5,000 reviews

Accepts Credit Cards: No. Parking: Street. Wheelchair Accessible: No. Good for Kids: Yes. Good for Groups: Yes. Attire: Casual. Noise Level: High. Good For Dancing: Yes. Alcohol: No. Best Nights: Tues. Takes Reservations: Yes.

As the global population continues along the path of astronomical growth and the once plenteous vacancy of land continues to diminish, the pursuit of post-mortem prime real estate is more fiercely competitive than ever. Why spend diminishing financial resources on the likes of coastal Malibu or Monaco when you’re going to spend more time in a pine box than on a picturesque balcony? Be it urn, casket, pyre, or crypt, the secrets to an eternity of pious contentment may simply lay in the geographic splendor of where you do. So choose wisely, this is one long-term lease that is unbreakable.

Where the Big Easy meets the Big Sleep, the unresponsive have never had it so good. In step with the European influences found throughout the city, this hallmark of New Orleans macabre is the jewel of Mississippian mortality. With the rowdy sounds of the French Quarter and the lulling of the river’s ebb both within a headstone’s throw, these infamous aboveground vaults have long lent their otherworldly allure to the misgivings of cultural stigma. While bordering the Iberville housing projects, the constant of threatening floodwaters, and a warding off of curses by the roaming spirit of in-house Voodoo priestess Marie Laveau, the entrance fee here has stayed moderately high thanks to the exploitative hijinks of the film Easy Rider and more recently, the word that Ghost Rider Nicolas Cage will be some day moving in as well. If you can tolerate the persistent dampness and the endless hoards of bead-breasted drunkards passing by (and sometimes passing out on) your everlasting abode, then make your way to “the city that care forgot,” and waste away in the “ruins of many a poor boy.”

Written by Francis Parrilli